


Settle

by pebbles1971



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Bad Communication, Episode: s04e16 Trio, Friendship/Love, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pebbles1971/pseuds/pebbles1971
Summary: Bi guys just want to fool around. You shoulda known that.McKay’s pretty easy to read as it goes, even without the gossip about him and Keller. But the man’s been awkward and careful around John ever since he took the doctor on a date and John doesn’t need to hear the words to know he’s being dumped.For fuck’s sake, Shep, you’re not a teenager, it’s hardly “dumped” when your friends-with-benefits decides not to blow you anymore.
Relationships: Jennifer Keller/Rodney McKay, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my response to re-watching Trio - Keller doesn't come off terribly well. The story follows that episode to post-series - episode spoilers for Outcast, Trio, Midway, The Last Man and all of season 5 
> 
> Content note: the story has a sub-plot about addiction. More in endnote. Emetophobia triggers. Biphobic attitudes

‘You owe me a beer . . . from the bar trick thing earlier. You couldn't figure it out, so . . .’

Jennifer hasn’t much noticed Rodney til now, but she can see by the way he looked when she went to take off her top that he’s noticed her.

And then he saved her life. Wow.

_And he’s a world-renowned physicist. And seriously loaded._

_And cute,_ she reminds herself that she really isn’t the kind of woman to treat dating like a career move, she’s not _mercenary_ only . . . she really can’t see herself taking Ronon to a dinner party or living with him in the burbs no matter how hot they are together in bed. Ronon doesn’t fit the world she eventually wants to be in, after this little adventure is done with. And okay, Ronon is an adventure all on his own and he makes her feel . . . melty, and giddy and alive and . . .

But there is no getting away from the fact that Rodney is cute, and into her, and the man has _prospects._ Really, is it so wrong to think like that?

‘There was no time! I would've figured it out.’ Rodney breaks through her reverie with that familiar defensiveness, like he’s so unaware that everyone _knows_ how incredibly clever he is. It’s cute and infuriating in equal measure. It’s just too tempting to mess with him, though. This is a guy you could keep on the back foot too damn easily.

‘Yeah, well eventually, I mean, chimps would have been able to figure it out. But the thing is, you didn't. So I win, and you owe me a beer.’ She says.

‘I don't remember ever agreeing to the beer.’ Oh, brother, this is like shooting fish in a barrel.

‘McKay?’

‘What?’

‘Do you want to have a drink with me or not?’ She says, almost exasperated, but definitely amused.

‘Oh . . . you-you want to have a drink?’ Like it had never occurred to him. Like he hadn’t been clumsily flirting with her (and ogling her) all day.

‘God, you're not very good at this, are you.’ Jennifer tries not to laugh, but she can’t hide her amusement.

‘Uh, no. No, I'm not.’

Rodney looks delightfully shy and awkward, and Jennifer gets a rush of something quite intoxicating. Oh gosh, but she has the upper hand here and that’s nice after being caught up in the human vortex that is Ronon Dex.

Things are looking more and more promising.

***

_Oh god, this is awkward._

Keller just asked him out. Shit. Maybe, just maybe he overplayed the performative masculinity a tad? Apart from the slip about Jon Stewart, which was plain careless. Although in Rodney’s defence, the man is exactly his type.

It’s not that Jennifer isn’t cute as hell. She’s gorgeous, actually. It’s not even that he’s not into women because he is (although he’s not _only_ into women), and Jennifer’s exactly his type too.

No, the problem is he’s taken. Or at least he thinks he is. He’s not really that au fait with the standard operating procedure vis a vis secret military lovers but Lt Colonel John Sheppard has been in his pants rather a lot since he broke up with Katie and it’s beginning to look like some sort of a Thing.

It’s making Rodney ridiculously happy, because he’s been crazy about the Colonel since the moment he saw the man lounging on the Ancient equipment in Antarctica and accidentally turning it (and him) on. He never imagined for a second that he stood a chance with the man on oh, about half a dozen counts from “out of my league” through to “only sucks cock in my fantasies”.

Honestly, he’s wondering if he’s accidentally ingested some of Lucius Lavin’s magic herbs, because both John and Jennifer are very beautiful, very smart people and he can’t for the life of him figure why either of them would be interested in him.

But as long as John’s sneaking into his bed there’s no way anyone, however stunning, stands a chance. He’s giddy and ridiculous over John, wants to carve his name on a tree or pass him notes in senior staff meetings. Instead, he’s finding himself trying to act extra heterosexual in front of Sam and others out of abject fear he’s going to out John somehow or lose him for not being straight-acting enough.

And herein lies the problem. Someone like Rodney McKay turning down a beautiful woman like Jennifer would be instantly suspicious. Would almost certainly lead to questions and what not. And questions about Rodney would no doubt lead to questions about John when they spend so much time together. And then John would have to _stop_ spending so much time with Rodney to cover himself. Might even decide that Rodney’s not worth the time of he can’t be more careful.

Rodney processes about a thousand permutations in a couple of seconds and comes to an inexorable conclusion: If he doesn’t say yes to a drink with Jennifer, he could lose John, and he’d do just about anything not to let that happen.

***

Something’s off with John, and it’s making Rodney nauseous with worry. Maybe it’s that his father just died. But the way he locked himself in the cockpit of the jumper leaving Rodney to the mercy of Lee and Kavanagh . . . that was cold.

Admittedly, it’s not like he could have risked locking himself in with Rodney but still, something is off. They haven’t hooked up for a while now and Rodney’s wondering if the whole thing has petered out before it even had a chance to get going.

‘Sheppard, wait up!’ He tries to sound casual and fails miserably. He thinks he probably landed on anxious with a side-order of bossy or maybe even pissy.

‘McKay.’ John’s voice is dry and flat. They’re in a corridor of the _Daedalus_ , the hum of the ship only highlighting the awkward silence that suddenly fills the space between them.

‘I, er . . .’ _I thought you were dead and it was like having my soul ripped out of my body._

They don’t say things like that to each other, though.

John shuffles his toes and looks so much like a man desperate to get away that Rodney’s words dry up.

‘Look, I need to . . .’ John points his thumb down the corridor to his assigned quarters. He’s in the military contingent, Rodney’s (still) bunking with Lee and Kavanagh. He might commit murder, really.

‘Yes, of course. Sorry Colonel. Catch you later?’

John shrugs noncommittally and then takes off as if the wraith are after him.

 _Well that went well._ Rodney’s beginning to wonder of he imagined it all – not just the awesome sex (but god, it had been spectacular. Even if they’d not progressed beyond blowjobs and frottage, they were _electric_ together, or so he thought) but the closeness – the way they’d kiss for what seemed like hours, the way John held onto him long after he’d come, unlike all the other guys who Rodney had been with who were out the door as soon as they blew their load. It hadn’t felt casual with John at all, it had felt . . . momentous.

So how are they here, barely managing to say two words to each other? Rodney knows he must’ve missed something, knows he must’ve done something wrong, but he’s no idea what.

People are confusing. John Sheppard doubly so.

***

John lets the water run over him in the tiny shower, taking away the stink from being confined in the puddlejumper for days without anything more than rudimentary washing and toilet facilities and no change of clothes.

The feeble spray is doing an adequate job of getting him clean, but entirely failing to wash away the cares that lie heavy on him. He longs for the responsive Atlantis showers, that he can turn up with his mind until they pummel him so hard it hurts.

He wants that – pressure on his skin, something substantial to push against. Rodney’s the most real, substantial, brilliant force he’s ever encountered and the way their bodies had worked together was mind-blowing. Rodney had sated a hunger John didn’t even know he had. Not just for sex but for touch that connected to something deep in him. Now he’s had it, he misses it like it’s necessary for his very survival.

_Bi guys just want to fool around. You shoulda known that._

McKay’s pretty easy to read as it goes, even without the gossip about him and Keller. But the man’s been awkward and careful around John ever since he took the doctor on a date and John doesn’t need to hear the words to know he’s being dumped.

_For fuck’s sake, Shep, you’re not a teenager, it’s hardly “dumped” when your friends-with-benefits decides not to blow you anymore._

It hadn’t been anything anyway, not really, and John’s smart enough to realise the horrible, soul-sucking sadness he feels might have as much to do with his dad being dead, even if his dad was an asshole. And yeah, maybe he’s just self-aware enough to know that his overwhelming need to crawl into McKay’s bunk and _cuddle_ has to do with the man who spawned him never having loved him and now being dead, dead, dead.

Transferring his desperate wish to be loved by someone onto Rodney fucking McKay seems like a seriously screwed up plan.

_Get used to doing without, John, s’what you’ve done most of your life._

But God, the memory of Rodney’s searing heat all over his body. He can rationalise it all he likes, but it doesn’t change how much he _wants_.

***

‘Look, I know I’m not good at saying stuff, Rodney. But you’re a good friend. Thanks for rescuing me, buddy.’

John’s in the infirmary, stitched up after the surgery from where a building fell on him, impaling him. And then the utter (hero? Jerk? Lunatic?) went on the mission to rescue Teyla with a big hole in his side and Rodney had to watch him getting more and more pale as blood oozed across his uniform. But the good news is Rodney got the pleasant distraction from that of _helping deliver Teyla’s baby on a hive ship._

It’s the first time they’ve had much of a chance to speak since John came back from the future, and Rodney’s too full of conflicting feelings to say much that’s coherent. Torn between _Oh God, you’re alive_ and _you stupid, self-sacrificing moron._

John’s a little mellow on morphine and seriously, if he calls Rodney buddy one more time Rodney’s going to throw one of his best hissy fits, he can feel it.

‘That wasn’t me.’ Rodney manages, incredulous that in another timeline he had managed to give up the rest of his life to save John but still hadn’t told him how he felt. Rodney has spent the last 12 days bargaining that yes, if John came back, he damn well would say it no matter how it screwed their friendship. And yet now . . .

‘Hey, you were you. And I know you did it to save Jennifer, but still. You saved my life. Again.’ John’s eyes crinkle with that relaxed, friendly warmth, like he’s completely missing how his “buddy” is desperately in love with him.

Has been since the moment he found out John persuaded a man to kill himself to save Rodney, though it took a few weeks and a bungled proposal to admit it to himself. And wow, the arrogance of him back then, thinking John _must_ return his feelings. He can see now that what he was offering and what John thought he was accepting were two very different things.

_Closeted military types don’t have boyfriends, you moron. What did you honestly think would happen here?_

But John thinks he did that all for Jennifer. Like hell.

‘Jennifer?’ Rodney’s incredulous. He can see Jennifer Keller being some sort of consolation prize in a world without John Sheppard, but is he serious? He really doesn’t know that any Rodney McKay in any universe can rationalise it all he likes but would only have done something of that magnitude for one person.

Oh. He acknowledges the enormity of that thought. He’s never felt this way about another human. And likely never will again. _Fuck._

‘Look, you can warn her now, make sure she doesn’t get sick. You guys can be happy. It’s all gonna work out, you’ll see.’ Again, that relaxed, casual warmth that tells Rodney the two of them are on such very different pages with one another they may as well not be in the same room.

‘Yes, well, I’m gonna . . . I mean I have to . . . I, er, left a simulation running. I need to get back to it. But it’s good to see you home, John. Really.’

Rodney gets out of there as fast as his dignity will allow.

John Sheppard. Home. Alive. That has to be enough. It isn’t, but it has to be.

***

_And the Oscar goes to . . ._

John watches Rodney’s retreat with a kind of morphine-induced smugness. Times like these, he knows he’s Patrick Sheppard’s son. Best damn poker face in two galaxies (well, board room face, really, but it amounts to the exact same thing). If Rodney’s still being weird after not-dumping him, John’s going to turn on the easy charm until McKay relents and they can go back to being the friends they were before the clearly ill-advised (but so fucking heavenly) sex started up.

The morphine helps, of course, because it dulls the pain of his admittedly broken heart. But then it also loosens his inhibitions enough that he can admit, if only to himself, that his heart is broken, and that sucks.

_Really thought there was something between us._

Only there still is, he reminds himself. They’re still best friends. Future Rodney confirmed that as much as he confirmed that’s all it is. John’s going to make sure he has what he can with Rodney and not let what he can’t have get in the way. So what, he was Rodney’s heteroflexible experiment after breaking up with Katie before settling back into the straight world. It happens. John’ll get over it.

He sighs heavily. Just has to convince his heart, but once the morphine is out of his system, that shouldn’t be a problem. If there’s one thing John Sheppard’s good at, it’s doing without love. And friendship counts for a lot – Rodney’s still the best friend he’s ever had. Even more so, now he knows the lengths the man will go to rescue him.

‘Are you in pain, Colonel?’ Keller comes in, hearing his sigh.

John looks at the pretty young woman and honestly does not get what Rodney sees. She’s nice, sure, but so fucking generic it makes him think of Twinkies . . . or something equally sweet and insubstantial. The polar opposite of someone with as much light and shade as Rodney McKay. But what does he know? Future Rodney had clearly been heartbroken to lose her. And he doesn’t know her – she must be scary smart to be a CMO at such a young age, so maybe he loved her for her brain.

John sighs again. ‘Not really,’ he says, and even he doesn’t believe him. She gives him a long look.

‘I think it’s time for your next lot of morphine anyways,’ she says, and John decides for once that that’s a good idea. Being off his face sounds like an excellent plan.

***

Hearing about your own death is the most terrifying thing Jennifer has heard since coming to Pegasus, and that’s saying a lot. She hasn’t bugged the Colonel for details, but now he’s ready for discharge, she can’t resist asking him about it.

She quizzes him for any medical details Rodney has given him, even though she’s already had access to the notes on the crystal John brought back. But the crystal was strangely devoid of anything personal. Eventually, she asks the thing she’s dying to know.

‘So, Rodney and me . . . we were together in that timeline?’

The Colonel nods but seems to be having difficulty meeting her eyes. What is he not telling her? She knows that her plan to land McKay has fallen a little flat, and that he and the Colonel are best friends . . . has their Rodney said something to him? Has he said something to Rodney? She has a vague sense that Sheppard doesn’t approve of her somehow, although it’s nothing she can pin down. Maybe it won’t hurt to try and get him on side.

‘I really like him, you know? He’s cute, funny, and out of this world clever. And I . . . think I could be good for him. Bring him out of himself a bit. He’s not as confident as he makes out.’

Sheppard gives her a smile and meets her eyes at last. ‘Yeah, I think future McKay thought you were pretty special. Guess that bodes well for the two of you.’

‘Will you put in a good word for me?’ She dares to ask, making her eyes go big.

‘Oh I thought you already . . .’ the Colonel looks confused for a minute, then shrugs. ‘Yeah, I can do that, if you promise to treat him right.’

‘I’ll treat him like diamonds. There aren’t many Dr Rodney McKays in this world, that’s for certain.’

‘There sure aren’t.’ The Colonel rolls his eyes as if to disparage Rodney, but Jennifer can see the genuine affection behind it. Somehow, the esteem the Colonel holds for McKay only makes him all the more of a desirable commodity.

*** 

‘I’m sorry Jennifer, I don’t know what to say, I like you a lot but I’m still getting over my last break-up.’ Or rather _not getting over,_ Rodney amends in the privacy of his own head.

‘With Katie.’ She sounds a little sceptical, and that’s not good.

‘Of course with Katie,’ he says a little too defensively.

‘Thing is, Rodney, I nearly died, and I’m not going to wait around, even if I think we could be really good together.’

 _You’re not the only one who nearly died,_ Rodney thinks. In the space of a little over a month, he’s seen Sheppard disappear into the future beyond hope of retrieval, buried under rubble and _(God, I thought he was dead for sure_ ), pulled out with a gaping wound in his side. And then this, another gut wound, another suicidal rescue mission, and the lingering, bitter taste of watching the man he . . . okay, okay, hopelessly loves . . . flatline in front of him when Carson administered the phage treatment.

‘I don’t expect you to.’ Honestly, Rodney isn’t sold on the whole him and Keller idea. Right now, pining pointlessly over Sheppard seems a much more appropriate use of his time.

The thing is, once upon a time, Jennifer would have been his dream come true. She’s pretty, smart, funny, and adorably awkward sometimes. Plus, he knows the person he used to be would have revelled at having someone like Jennifer on his arm. Would have seen her as a badge of success and inclusion, somehow. Without knowing what something _more_ feels like, he can see himself having fallen for her. But now? It’s impossible.

***

The charm offensive seems to have worked. This time round, Rodney has been much more supportive in John’s recovery from yet another skewer through his gut, on this occasion of the alien space tentacle variety.

 _Trust me to get the homicidal space tentacles not the good, sexy kind._ John thinks wistfully as he contemplates his next chess move. They’re in his room, with John still off duty and mostly consigned to bed rest. John blames the gut wound for the difficulty he’s having in breathing around Rodney. Maybe it’s time for his painkillers. He grabs some out of the very full drawer where he usually throws whatever he’s been prescribed, unused. There are four years’ worth of opioids in there and he finds that strangely comforting right now.

‘Not like you to actually take your medicine,’ Rodney pretends to be teasing, but John picks up the underlying concern. It’s kinda nice, but it makes his chest ache.

‘What can I say? I’m getting old.’ Literally. Keller has informed him that his centuries in the stasis chamber have taken the years Todd gave him back with interest. He feels it everywhere, the unfamiliar aches and stiffening of a post-40 body that’s been knocked around way more than any body should.

‘Hmm. That must be hard.’ His friend is frowning at him, face edged with what could be worry. Rodney was the one to remind him that he would have aged in stasis, remembering what happened to the crew of the Aurora, to Elizabeth.

But John doesn’t want McKay’s kindness, his earnest sympathy. Wants them to goof around and trash talk and distract him from the all-kinds-of pain he’s feeling.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he says dismissively, ‘just as soon as I can get back in the gym. Now let’s talk about how I’m about to kick your ass.’ He manages a somewhat maniacal grin. The codeine is kicking in and taking the edge off everything. Feels good.

***

‘I’m not going to take a _bath_ with you,’ John’s tone is dry – teasing, and not in the good way. Not the first time lately he’s seemed indifferent, dismissive towards Rodney but this one hits him right where it hurts.

Yeah, John, just rub it in that you don’t want to be intimate with me, why don’t you? Maybe I didn’t get the memo, didn’t notice us, oh, _not having sex_.

The comment is completely unnecessary. For a second, Rodney forgets his worry about Ronon in a flood of shame and humiliation. God, how could he not have seen how cruel Sheppard can be? Not for the first time, he wonders if the man is unworthy of the depth of feeling Rodney focusses on him. It’s one thing to be turned by a pretty face, but quite another to develop such a deep obsession with someone you once rolled around with.

Someone who treats him pretty much like the cool kid treats the geek in every high school across North America. Is he supposed to be grateful he’s not getting slammed into lockers, maybe?

He lets nothing show; goes on talking about finding Ronon and treats John’s comment as throwaway. But inside, his guts are tying themselves in even bigger knots than they have been from worrying about the big Satedan’s fate.

This has to end. He needs to get over this stupid obsession.

***

_Nice one, John._

He watches Rodney’s almost-imperceptible flinch and he knows his comment hit its mark. You’d have to know Rodney pretty well to notice it, but the thing is he _does._ And the moment he realises he’s gotten through, he just wants to take it back.

Sometimes he feels like he just wants to _hurt_ Rodney for rejecting him, dish out a tiny taste of what he’s going through. A little humiliation wouldn’t do any harm.

But Rodney hurt brings out every protective streak in his being, and now he just wants to . . . well, it doesn’t matter what he wants because he can’t have it. And after weeks of charm offensive, putting their friendship back on track, one casual dig has put Rodney’s defences right up – suddenly there’s a shift in his tone, from friendly to professional. It’s subtle, but John notices every goddamn thing when it comes to Rodney McKay.

He just wants to reel the words back in.

_Fuck._

It’s all slipping away from him. Ronon missing, Teyla off the team, Rodney . . .

They’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a family, and that includes the people who raised him. And he’s losing them. As he prepares for the mission to follow Lorne’s lead, a familiar pain settles in his gut.

He doesn’t need the distraction. He pulls out the codeine tablets from his uniform pocket and swallows two down dry.

***

Jennifer had forgotten how Ronon makes her feel, how much the man gets under her skin, but the time he spends in the infirmary recovering from his addiction re-ignites something she was trying hard to forget.

The man is vulnerable. She shouldn’t go after him when she knows that long term there’s no future for them. He’s an _alien_ for heaven’s sake (he has _dreadlocks_ for heaven’s sake, she can’t help thinking, with a lingering echo of “I’m not racist but . . .”).

But she’s drawn to him like a needle to a magnet. Rodney is nice (when he remembers to be) and makes sense in her head, but Ronon makes her blood thump.

When it’s all over, and Ronon is looking and acting like himself again, if a bit withdrawn, she finds herself saying to him, despite her better judgement:

‘Ronon, would you like to go for a drink with me? I hear some of the scientists have set up a kind of speakeasy in building four. Everybody knows about it but Woolsey. Maybe . . . we could go to the opening . . .?’

Ronon looks at her for the longest time, uncertain and haunted. But in the end his face softens and, ‘sure, I’d like that,’ he says simply.

But later, Rodney sits with her in the mess and wow, that’s new. He makes conversation like he’s really making an effort, showing interest in her day and paying her attention. It’s a little like he’s constantly reminding himself how to be a nice guy but she kind of likes that.

‘So anyway the things is, I was wondering if you’d like to go with me to the opening of this new “speakeasy” thing . . .’ He looks nervous and it’s sweet. But oh. Ronon.

‘Rodney, I’m really sorry, I already have a date,’ she says, and is somewhat pleased to see how crushed he looks. Hey, maybe this can work out – keeping McKay on the back burner might make him work a little harder, and the man could use some work.

‘Oh. Okay well never mind. Hey, I have to go, I’ve got an experiment I have to check in on . . .’ He gets up, almost tripping over his chair, looking flushed. As he exits the mess, Jennifer watches after him. He’s no Ronon, but he has potential.

***

Rodney is under John, squirming happily and sighing just the same way he did their first night together. God, he’s missed this – how could he have ever believed that they weren’t meant to be with each other? Their bodies fit together like advanced ancient machinery. They’re a perfect match.

He starts to increase his thrusts against Rodney, their slick cocks sliding against each other in a perfect rhythm. John sighs and gasps and feels so overwhelmed by what he’s experiencing that he blurts out ‘I think I love you!’ before he’s really thought about the consequences of saying that out loud. He locks lips with Rodney to prevent any more embarrassing confessions but it’s a bit like shutting the stable door after the horse bolted, and Rodney has gone stiff beneath him.

He pulls back, mad at himself for breaking the mood. ‘Rodney?’

But something’s terribly wrong – Rodney’s too still, and when John shakes him his head just flops unnaturally. John checks for a pulse, but there’s nothing there, and as he does it, John realises Rodney’s skin is ice cold to the touch.

‘No no no no!’ John pleads, desperately trying to make this not be happening. He pulls back, but suddenly he’s standing on the alternate _Deadalus_ , staring down at the bodies of his team.

‘It’s your fault, John. You killed them.’ His father says as he wakes with a start.

 _Fuck._ Another nightmare. They’ve been happening every night since they got back from the alternate _Deadalus._ John doesn’t think he’ll ever get over seeing the cold corpses of his team, but more specifically seeing Rodney, dead, laid out on that cold, cold floor. He’s seen the mutilated bodies of enough friends and comrades to last a lifetime, but seeing Rodney’s corpse, even without a mark on him, even with a real, alive Rodney close at hand, eclipses that by several orders of magnitude.

His guts spasm with intense pain. It’s a hangover of his recent injuries, he’s pretty sure. Although maybe, the way they’re clenching, his utter fear of losing Rodney has something to do with it too. John looks at the clock. He took codeine before going to sleep but it’s late enough that he can take another, so he does. He knows he’s supposed to take a break from them, knows they’re addictive, but it’s early days in his healing, he’ll be able to kick them soon enough.

His Rodney (oh, he wishes he were really his), of course, has discovered the manner of the alternate team’s end – alternate McKay had proposed a desperate gamble with their jumper’s power supply to try and reset the drive and get it under control. When it didn’t pay off, they’d lost their only means of escaping the ship. There was no food, no water. When they realised they were going to die slowly of dehydration, the team had elected to take a quicker route, and their McKay had once again provided the means, though he didn’t say what.

At least they had looked peaceful. And oh, the way alt-John and alt-Rodney had lain top-to-tail, legs pressed against each other so intimately, that made something else in John ache, something he couldn’t name.

Alternate Rodney blamed himself, citing it as another Doranda. John agrees that it was another Doranda, but not with who was to blame. McKay is a scientist; his job is to have ideas. John is a leader, his job is to assess risk and make the call. It’s not like he doesn’t have the ability to know the difference between a McKay who’s certain and sure and a McKay who’s taking an unnecessary risk.

Alternate John should have overruled him. They could have taken the jumper down to the planet, lived out their lives in another universe. Instead, alternate John had got his team killed, and John feels it as if it was his own mistake.

And that John Sheppard had clearly never apologised for Doranda or taken his share of the blame, which means, small mercies, he was a little bit more of a dick than the Sheppard in this universe.  
  
But still, it doesn’t change the fact that John is terrified that his awestruck faith in Rodney’s abilities coupled with his weakness as a leader and his inability to say no to the man will one day get them all killed.

***

Rodney knows he’s angry at John for a million reasons when he chimes his door, but he promises himself he’ll stay focussed on this one thing.

He feels betrayed.

The door swooshes open. John’s sitting on his bed, hugging his knees, hunched over them. He looks so vulnerable the wind almost goes out of Rodney’s sails. _Almost._

‘I can’t believe you’re happy to just leave her out there!’ Yes, he really means to be this accusatory, but John just sinks further in on himself.

And no, that doesn’t make Rodney want to abandon his rant and give John a hug, it really doesn’t.

‘Happy? Fuckssake. Not happy. We had no choice is all.’

‘We can get her back. Like we got Niam. I can track her.’

‘It’s not her, Rodney. Not Elizabeth.’ John sounds almost as robotic as the disembodied voice they’d heard when Weir first came through to Atlantis. It makes Rodney want to shake him . . . or something . . . the flatness of John’s voice compared to his own high emotion is unsettling. He insists that the being they spaced wasn’t Elizabeth, but Rodney is beginning to wonder if the shell on the bed in front of him is John Sheppard.

‘It’s enough her that I’ll take it. It’s enough her that I can’t live with her tumbling around in the cold of space for the whole of fucking eternity! How can you?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ John sighs and sags into himself even more.

This isn’t the John Sheppard he knows. Lately the man’s been cut off, apathetic. _Lost,_ his subconscious supplies, and he shivers a bit at that. John’s always been closed, but this is . . . different somehow.

‘I need you to know I’m going to get her back. It may take a while, but I’ll find a way to make it secure. She can get her human body, have her life back.’

John’s fists clench so tight his knuckles whiten. ‘We can’t get her back, Rodney. We already lost her in that explosion.’ His voice is sharp, unkind.

‘I know you want to believe that. I know you think if I hadn’t got Jennifer to use the nanites . . .’

‘We wouldn’t have got the ZPM. We would have lost Atlantis. A lot more dead if I’d have gotten my way. I’m not accusing you of anything, Rodney.’ John sounded simply weary now.

‘She was still her, John, whatever your prejudices about humans who are part machine. Maybe she wasn’t the same, but she was Elizabeth. When she woke in the infirmary, when she came back to us this time. It’s still her, or at least parts of her. I can’t let that go.’ Rodney’s anger is subsiding into something else – he can hear the pleading in his own voice, sense how easily his emotions could turn to tears.

‘Well I can.’ John’s voice is gravelly and contains a warning, which is only slightly diminished by the wince of pain that follows. John reaches for a blister pack beside his bed, pops out two pills and takes them. Rodney’s too far away to read the label, but he files this away with a hint of concern.

‘Maybe if it was all your fault, you’d feel differently.’ Rodney says quietly.

John’s resumes his huddle, and Rodney realises he’s protecting his guts like they’re going to be torn out by somebody. Maybe that’s what two severe gut wounds do to a person. Or maybe it’s something else, but John’s way too protected right now for Rodney to figure that out.

‘You don’t get it,’ John says equally quietly. ‘It’s not your fault. You came up with the idea to alter the base code, but _I_ made the call. _I_ killed Elizabeth, _I_ unleashed the replicators to destroy human worlds. You do your job just fine, come up with crazy, brilliant ideas that mostly save our asses. And it’s my job to decide whether the risk is worth taking, whether there’ll be collateral damage. I made the wrong call, Rodney. It’s on me. Just like Doranda, just like the other version of me on the alternative _Daedalus._ ’

That’s a lot of words for Sheppard and it’s obvious this stuff has been on his mind for a while. Rodney really doesn’t know what to say in response, but he doesn’t want to buy it. He knows he can be persuasive, talk John into things. Use their friendship to get his way. He’s a strong character and he’s so often right that people sometimes take it for granted. He takes it for granted himself – is blinkered to the moments he can be spectacularly wrong. It doesn’t happen often, but when lives are at stake, once or twice is too often.

‘Don’t think for a second I’m going to let go of my own responsibility in any of those scenarios,’ Rodney says eventually, trying to keep his voice firm. And when did he go from being mad at John to defending him, exactly? What, was he mad at himself all along?

_Seriously, McKay, you’re such a cliché._

‘Your scientific assessment was sound.’ John says with much more firmness than Rodney managed, but with a background hint of overwhelming fatigue. ‘My tactical assessment should have come to different conclusions. And you’re right, Rodney, she was enough Elizabeth at that point and I should’ve made us pack up the ZPM and bring her home. She died for nothing good. But I refuse to believe that replicator we just spaced is her.’

In his head, Rodney hears _can’t bear to_ in place of _refuse to._ Not for the first time, Rodney thinks about the file he shouldn’t have read on John back in Antarctica, about a dead mother and a child left, by Ronon’s account, to a cold family.

He came in here mad that John didn’t care about Elizabeth as much as him. Now he realises John cares way too much to see anything clearly.

Rodney sighs. ‘Well, just so you know, I don’t agree, and one day I’m going to get her home and safe. I’m not leaving her behind, John.’

John winces at having his own words thrown back at him, but he says nothing.

***

John has been trying not to hate Keller for some time, but he’s losing the fight. To be honest, after this, he’s not sure he can even be bothered to fight it.

She let Rodney’s illness advance to the incurable stage because she _liked him better sick_. It had taken him a while to absorb that, but now he couldn’t let it go.

Yep, he hates her. Hates that she helped seal Rodney’s fate, hates even more that she’d like some nicer, kinder version of Rodney better than the real deal.

And now she’s trying to block them from having one last day with Rodney. A chance to say goodbye, except he isn’t going to do that. A chance for him to tell Rodney . . . no, he isn’t going to do that either. But what he will do is just about anything to look into those blue eyes one more time and see the spark back there – all that intelligence, belligerence, arrogance, snark. The man is . . . _was . . ._ perfectly himself, and he cannot fathom why Keller would want him to be any different.

Fuck. He misses Rodney already like someone has ripped out a vital organ without anaesthetic. Even the codeine isn’t dulling this pain. He had enough of a hard time seeing alternate Rodney’s lifeless body on the dimension-jumping _Daedalus._ Had nightmares for weeks about Rodney dying, and now here they are.

Rodney is dying and he doesn’t know how to bear it.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do without him. The world without Rodney in it is inconceivable, his presence so enormous and all-encompassing it’s as vital as air, or sunlight.

And John’s seen the video. Rodney says he loves Keller, and although something about that doesn’t ring true, it’s right there in front of him that he’s lost Rodney two different ways. He’s really trying hard to make the hating Keller thing not be about that.

But it’s John’s name Rodney cries out the whole goddamn time, it’s John he seeks out, John he’s all over with hands that have completely lost their inhibitions, and John could almost believe that without the filter of whatever barrier lies between them that maybe Rodney does feel something for him.

Not that it fucking matters when the man is dying. John’s heart feels like it’s being sucked dry by a wraith. The pain is the exact same thing he felt when Todd was feeding on him, only worse.

The codeine really isn’t working so he takes another.

***

Rodney’s sitting on the guest quarters bed watching his sister pack. It’s pretty amazing when three years ago they weren’t speaking that now she’s crossed two galaxies just to say goodbye to him. He’s only too aware that she saved his life – without her decision to risk the shrine, the choice would have fallen to Jennifer.

And Jennifer would have let him die. Oddly enough, that’s thrown a lot of cold water on his emerging feelings towards her.

And then there’s John, and how things were with him when Rodney was ill.

‘Jeannie, you know you said to me last time we saw each other that I’m “no John Sheppard”?’ He ventures.

‘God, Mer, I’m sorry, did I say that?’ She looks up at him from her open holdall, nervously pushing hair back from her face. He’s not great at reading people, even his sister, but she may not want to be having this conversation. ‘That was an awful thing to say. I was so pissed at you for putting me in danger by sending me those emails . . .’ Jeannie’s face pales at the memory of her kidnap.

‘But it’s true. I know it’s true. I’m not in his league.’ Rodney doesn’t want to avoid this fact. He had blustered about it at the time, but she had only confirmed what he already knew.

‘You’re . . . different from him, sure,’ she hedges, ‘but I’d say you’re a catch. I mean, you’re my brother, so I’m in no position to judge your attractiveness, but you’re certainly not ugly, and anyway there’s more to being a catch than looks.’

She scoops up a phalanx of pots and bottles from the counter and dumps them in the holdall. Rodney likes that about Jeannie, he realises – how she can be so damn practical in many respects and then packs enough toiletries and cosmetics for a spa day to go visit her sick brother.

Wait – _maybe she has reason to want to make herself look beautiful_ , he thinks with a flash of ridiculous jealousy.

‘Meaning John Sheppard is sex on legs and I’m really not.’ Rodney sighs.

‘Well, the Colonel _is_ sex on legs.’ _Aha!_ Thinks Rodney. ‘But I don’t see why it matters – not when you can land a beautiful woman like Jennifer.’ Damn, if only she knew.

‘I . . .’ Rodney hesitates. ‘It’s not Jennifer that I want,’ he admits, eyes downcast.

‘What? Mer, what’s going on? I heard you tell Jennifer you loved her,’ Jeannie sounds exasperated, but no more than Rodney is with himself. She stops packing to come sit on the bed next to him, skewering him with a look he can’t wriggle out of.

Rodney knows he looks as panicky as he feels. ‘I can’t connect to how I felt when I said that. I think maybe I’d have to lower my IQ again to get there and I’m not a fan of that idea.’

‘Whoa, Mer, that’s harsh.’ Jeannie says and she’s right, he knows it is, ‘You need to tell her.’

‘But . . . I do _like_ her. I mean, we’ve almost dated and I’m nearly over him . . .’ shit, he really didn’t mean to let that pronoun slip out.

But Jeannie just looks pleased and fond.

‘Oh Mer, you came out to me!’ She throws her arms around him. ‘I’d pretty much given up hope you ever would. But I _thought_ it was more than a college phase.’

‘You knew? When did you know? Why didn’t you say?’ Rodney feels a sense of vertigo – what would his life have been like if he’d come out as bi when he was younger?

 _Well, you’d probably not have picked working for the military as a career._ No Atlantis, no John Sheppard. It’s hard to regret that.

‘You were kind of private. I did drop hints, though.’

‘You did? Oh.’ Rodney feels like she’s asked him to open a file on his internal hard drive only to find it wiped.

‘I don’t do very well with hints,’ he admits.

‘Oh Mer. So are you gay or . . .’

‘Bi. I’m not just a closet case who pretends to like girls.’ Sometimes, he wonders if that’s exactly what John Sheppard is (although judging by John’s skills there have been some backroom blowjobs in his past life at the very least).

‘And you like someone.’ And then Jeannie’s face lights up with realisation, and Rodney groans inwardly. ‘Oh my god, Mer, you like John!’

Rodney just blushes and refuses to meet her eyes.

‘Wait, no . . . you’re in _love_ with him.’ She sounds so sure, damn her.

‘I mean how do you even define something like “love”?’ He says defensively, then sags. ‘Oh god. The way he . . . I just . . . I get him out of my system and then something like this happens and he’s wormed all the way back in. But it’s hopeless. Completely hopeless.’

‘He obviously cares for you very, very much, Mer. I think he definitely loves you in his own way.’ Jeannie has that “letting someone down gently” tone that tells him she still thinks John is way out of his league. And of course, she’s right.

 _In the way a friend loves another friend._ John’s voice echoes back from another time, another infirmary bed.

Nothing has changed. Jennifer likes him, he likes Jennifer, and John Sheppard is never going to be his.

***

‘Well, Colonel, Michael knocked you around pretty good, but you’ll live.’

Jennifer hates treating Sheppard now. The man’s dislike of her is palpable, and she has no idea what caused it. Surely he can’t still resent her over her decisions when Rodney had the parasite? That was months ago.

She knows the Colonel’s protective of his team, but this is getting out of hand.

‘Pain’s pretty bad, Doc,’ John says in his nasally voice, just short of a whine.

Huh. Jennifer has noticed the Colonel talking way more about pain than he used to. She knows he’s adjusting to having aged while in stasis, but she’s beginning to suspect . . .

‘Okay, I’ll give you some ibuprofen.’

‘Doesn’t really work for me, doc. Can I get some codeine?’ He says it so smoothly, not at all like an addict jonesing for a fix. And yet . . .

‘Let me just go check something,’ Jennifer says noncommittally.

She goes back to her office and checks the Colonel’s records, and sure enough, he’s asked for codeine every time he’s received even a minor injury. In the past, she’s had trouble getting him to accept a prescription even for life-threatening wounds, and she’s pretty sure he rarely took them.

So, this is a problem.

 _Great_. As if he isn’t pissed at her enough already, she has to confront him over a possible opiate addiction. Some days, she really hates her job.

God, this is going to be tough. She wishes she had a better relationship with the Colonel, but there’s no getting around what she has to say.

When she gets back to the treatment room John is on his feet, looking . . . actually, a bit jittery, a bit more like a jonesing addict. God, how bad is this?

‘Sit down, Colonel, we need to talk.’

Sheppard freezes. ‘What about, exactly?’ He looks cornered and wary, and she’s a little scared of him.

Jennifer stands and waits. She isn’t going to have this conversation while the Colonel’s on his feet, vibrating like a piano wire. It takes him a while to cave, but eventually he slumps in the chair. Jennifer sits as well, tries to soften her expression and swallow her fear.

‘I’m worried that you’ve developed a dependency issue with codeine, Colonel.’ She says it as gently as she can.

‘I’m outa here. You’re talking crap.’ The look he gives her has hatred written all over it. He springs up and heads for the door.

‘We’re not done, Colonel.’ Jennifer says, channelling her father’s authoritarian voice as best she can.

Sheppard gets to the door, but just jabs the sill with his open palm. She can tell he’s restraining himself with every ounce of his control. He returns to his chair, sitting with a huff, and slumps over with his face in his hands.

‘Is there someone else you’d prefer to talk to about this?’ She asks.

‘Don’t want anyone else to know.’ Sheppard mumbles through his hands.

‘If we can manage your withdrawal quickly, I’m happy to keep it under wraps. But you’re going to have to cooperate with me, Colonel, however much you dislike me.’

He looks up at that, and there’s shame in his eyes. ‘I don’t . . .’ he hesitates, seems to change his mind about finishing that sentence. ‘Whatever you say, doc. Just tell me what I need to do.’

‘I’m going to put you on a withdrawal regime. You should be able to function on that for a bit. But when the time comes to quit, you’ll need to take some time off. Then there’s going to be urine tests in your future for a while. And you need to see a counsellor.’

Sheppard looks at her again. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this. Keeping it between us. You’re taking a professional risk here . . . why?’

‘Because Rodney loves you like a brother and I love Rodney,’ she says and wow, she realises that’s true, even though they still haven’t properly got it together yet. She’s finished with Ronon, and that was hard, but his almost feral performance when the _Daedalus_ was captured made her finally see there was no place for the man in her world. And she and Rodney are now circling each other, intentions clear. If she doesn’t find a way to win over the best friend, though, she doesn’t like her chances.

He looks at her, searching her eyes as if to assess the truthfulness of her words. ‘If you hurt him . . .’ he finally says, and his voice cracks as he says it. Wow, this man _really_ cares about his team. Really cares about Rodney.

‘I won’t. I’ll be good for him, you’ll see.’

He drops his gaze, looking so defeated it makes her ache for him. God, the burden this man carries – she cannot fathom it.

‘Tell me what I need to do, doc.’

***

‘I’ve gotta tell you something, buddy. I really shoulda told you before.’

They’re sitting on the beach in front of the canopy they fixed to the open jumper, watching the retreating ocean. The surfing lesson’s finished for the day and Ronon’s already been standing on the board.

John can feel the pain of withdrawal beginning to kick in, and he realises he’s not going to be able to hide it from his companion.

‘Shoot,’ says Ronon.

‘So, um, you know how I had a lot of injuries a while back? Well I was in a lot of pain and I . . .’ God, this is hard.

‘You took too many meds. Got into the habit of it. I noticed.’ Ronon says it as if it’s nothing, and John breathes out, long and slow like a whole load of tangles are being released.

‘Yeah. And I’m going through withdrawal. Hoped I’d weaned off slowly enough that it wouldn’t hurt, but apparently not. Sorry, buddy.’

‘So, what do you need?’

John thinks about it, focussing in on the pain in his guts. ‘Oh god – to throw up!’ he says, staggering to his feet and running behind the jumper. He pukes til he feels like he’s turning inside out, sinking down on his hands and knees in the sand, utterly defeated. His body aches from his feet to his pounding head. What he wouldn’t give for codeine right now, but he’s not gonna.

Never again. So fucking stupid.

Ronon brings him water, massages his back, wipes his brow with a cold, wet, cloth. He feels so cared for it’s almost worth the pain. Not just cared for . . . loved. Ronon loves him. Teyla loves him. Even Rodney loves him, if not in the way he wants. Still more than he ever had before.

It has to be enough. He needs to put this behind him.

Later, when Ronon wraps his shivering, sweating, pain-wracked form up in a burrito of sleeping bags, he croaks out;

‘Some holiday. I’m really sorry, buddy.’

‘S’okay. Stops me thinking about her with him. Stops you thinking about him with her. S’all good, John.’

God, is there nothing the man doesn’t know about him? But vulnerable as he is, John feels completely safe with Ronon, even with all his secrets exposed, and that makes all this almost worth it. To realise he has this, with another human being. This closeness, this knowing.

‘You know you’re like the brother I never had, right?’ He says at last, as the shivers start to abate.

‘You have a brother, Sheppard.’

‘Yeah. Still.’

Ronon just huffs. John closes his eyes.

***

John wakes to the door chime. A warm weight is settled sleepily on his chest, and it makes him feel happier than he ever imagined possible. He wonders if he should move before he lets whoever it is in, but he decides he doesn’t mind being caught in the act of cuddling his current favourite man. He’d rather not disturb his peaceful sleep or put a frown onto that wide-open face.

He thinks the door open. Of course, it’s Teyla. She stands watching the two of them, looking fond.

‘Thank you for watching him, John. It was good to have some time alone with Kanaan after . . .’

Teyla’s having a hard time over having been back on a hive ship after the whole wraith queen act earlier in the year. John wonders if motherhood has thinned her skin or whether the years of horror she’s seen are finally catching up with her. Teyla is the bravest human he knows (and he knows Ronon Dex), but even she has to have a breaking point. He’s seen it enough in the military, it’s often the something small that comes after all the something bigs that finally breaks you.

He needs to keep an eye on his friend.

‘It was my pleasure. Seriously. Any time.’ John means every word. Torren’s presence in his life is doing something good to his heart.

Teyla sits next to him on the couch, seeming in no rush to wake or move her son, which John feels relieved about. He’s been stock still for over an hour and he’s getting a little uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want to move TJ for all the world.

‘I can see he is very content with you. It is good to see. Perhaps I can make us some tea before I take him back?’ She says this with a wry smile.

‘Tea would be good.’ John says this around a rising lump in his throat. Since coming off codeine, he’s been . . . well, emotionally raw. The smallest things make him catch his breath or prickle at the eyes. It isn’t a bad thing, necessarily; he’s not bursting into tears in front of the marines or losing his shit when he needs not to, but it takes a bit of getting used to.

Teyla makes them both a cup of the Athosian tea she regularly supplies him with, that he’s getting to love more than coffee (‘don’t tell Rodney,’ he whispered to Teyla when she handed over the latest stash). She sets it out of reach to cool down, and rejoins them on the sofa.

‘Did Rodney come by?’ she asks, with an intent she’s trying but failing to conceal.

‘Nah. I think he’s snowed under, as usual.’ John replies.

‘Oh. I suggested you might like the company.’ Teyla looks disappointed.

‘I had company. Got all I need right here.’ John reassures her, looking happily down at Torren’s sleeping form. He really doesn’t want to think about Rodney.

‘Okay, John. I am glad.’ Teyla’s look contradicts her words, though. She reaches for the tea, testing its heat, and passes it to John carefully, then sips her own in silence. John lets the slightly bitter scent of it soothe him before taking a long draught. It always settles something inside him.

‘Ronon talked to you, didn’t he?’ John says finally, unable to resist the invitation to fill the silence. He remembers all the secrets pouring out of him under the influence of withdrawal. It wasn’t like Ronon hadn’t guessed, anyway, but John had told him more than he’d ever share with a counsellor.

‘A little, but mostly I guessed.’ Teyla says carefully. ‘I wish I could mend things between the two of you.’

‘Teyla, it’s ok, it’s getting better, really. I’m over him.’

Teyla just gives him one of her Spock eyebrows.

‘Okay, well I’m getting there. No really, things are easier. It doesn’t . . . hurt . . . as much as it did. We’re slipping back into our old friendship. That’s all I want now, for things to be easy between us.’

‘This is Rodney McKay we are talking about. I do not think anything will ever be easy.’

John snorts gently. ‘True enough, but I guess I’ll settle for me not being the one dropping passive aggressive conversational hand grenades . . .’

‘Oh John, do you not think you should tell him how you feel?’

‘God, no. Even if I should’ve done it before, he’s with Keller now, and they’re the ones who are meant to be together.’

‘So you’ve said, but I cannot see it myself.’ Teyla doesn’t seem to bond with Jennifer any better than John does.

‘You don’t like her.’

‘I do not like . . . some things she has done. She treated Ronon . . . I think my marine friends would say “like a piece of meat”. I also think she would have treated him differently had his skin been a different colour.’

‘Oh. I hadn’t realised.’ Damn, John should have picked this up. Nobody treats his friends as less than they are.

‘And sometimes . . .’ Teyla is about as on one as John’s ever seen her, and he suspects the residual angst from her time inside the hive. He’s not about to stop her.

‘Sometimes?’ he prompts, when he sees her hesitate, her compassionate nature trying to get the better of her anger. He really doesn’t want that.

‘I think perhaps she loves _what_ Rodney is more than _who_ he is.’ She confesses.

John goes silent, reflecting. He’s been building all his effort to move forward on the idea of Rodney being happy with Keller, which to be fair he seems to be. But Teyla is only reconfirming his feeling that even if Rodney doesn’t want him, Keller is in no way good enough. Not that it’s his choice to make.

Torren snuffles and wriggles and slowly opens his eyes.

‘Hey, little man!’ John says softly, ‘welcome back. Guessing you’re gonna want your mom.’ He gently hands the waking baby to Teyla with a pang of reluctance, and she begins to feed him.

There isn’t anything more beautiful in the world than the love between these two, and it soothes the ache John suddenly feels in his chest.

They’re both silent for a long while, Teyla looking dotingly on her son, John happily drinking the rest of his tea.

‘One of my lesbian marine friends tells me your silly law might be on the way out,’ Teyla says at last, apropos nothing.

‘You’re not supposed to tell me things like that, Teyla,’ John chides with mock seriousness. In truth, his position has always been more “do know, don’t care” than “don’t ask, don’t tell” and that’s a tendency that runs throughout the SGC, with a few exceptions like Caldwell.

‘Will it change things for you?’

‘Maybe, although chain of command and fraternisation has always been the issue for me here more than DADT – but yeah, Keller will take McKay back to earth sooner or later, and when that happens, perhaps I’ll genuinely move on and start dating.’

It’ll take a couple of years before they end DADT, and it’ll take a couple of years to really get over McKay, so that works out. He tries not to think of the hole Rodney will leave in his life when he inevitably leaves Atlantis. It’s easier to bear than it was, and that’s a start.

Torren starts to cry, and Teyla reaches for the changing bag.

‘I’ll do it,’ John offers, desperate for a little more time with the baby. It probably helps, he thinks, that he has fallen in love with someone new. He gazes at Torren with doting eyes and doesn’t even care about the smell Teyla’s child is producing.

***

Rodney has managed to score a bootleg of _The Dark Knight_ and John’s asked if it can just be the team tonight. Teyla’s made popcorn – the limit of her culinary skills – Ronon brings some fruity and not-too-intoxicating hooch he picked up on a recent trip to Belkan. John brings pizza, made himself in the kitchens, and two precious bars of chocolate. If he feeds a bit more of the latter to Rodney than to anyone else, nobody’s saying.

John’s blown away by Heath Ledger’s performance as the Joker, made all the more poignant by the actor’s untimely death. John feels chills about that – a man lost to drug addiction – but grateful, too, because John’s okay now, he really is. Safe and loved.

And clean for well over a month. Keller has the regular little pots of piss to prove it.

2008 has been a spectacular pile of shit, starting with the death of Patrick Sheppard and just going downhill from there, but it’s January 1st 2009 on Earth now, and things are looking up.

The credits roll and John shuts down the laptop. He clears his throat awkwardly.

‘Guys, I need to talk to you about something.’

‘We are all ears, John.’

Teyla looks as composed as ever. Motherhood has only made her more serene-appearing. John continues to wonder what it’s like under the surface of her, though. He suspects deep passions and turbulence, but they rarely show.

He rubs the back of his neck.

‘So, you probably noticed I had a problem . . .’

Rodney looks at him, almost startled. ‘With codeine? Shit, I knew I should have said something, because . . .’

‘Rodney.’ John stills the man mid-rant. ‘It’s okay, I got through it. I’m clean now.’

Rodney stares at him, those blue eyes wide with . . . he can’t tell what, but whatever it is it makes him feel safe.

‘Look, I’m crap at talking about my feelings . . .’ John continues. A chorus of “uh-huhs” greets this statement.

‘. . . but brace yourselves, I’m gonna try.’ He takes a huge breath. ‘So. Dad died, and it made me realise not what I was losing, but what I never had. And that hurt. More than I can say. But through this year I’ve come to realise . . . you guys are it. The thing that I never had, I mean.’

God, did that even make any sense?

‘We love you too, John,’ Teyla says easily, as if what John just uttered is remotely comprehensible, But of course that’s exactly what he meant.

‘Yeah. That. I love you. I love each of you. A lot.’ Whew, maybe he’s never said that to anybody before . . . how is that possible? It’s better than flying to say it, and _way_ better than codeine. Not just the loving people but the knowing it’s returned. He knows it in his bones.

Rodney is looking at him . . . again, or still. His blue eyes look . . . wow, a little moist. Rodney shifts off the office chair he’s occupied and comes and sits on the floor cushions next to John. Real close, close enough to feel his hot breath, smelling of hooch and chocolate.

Rodney doesn’t say anything, just wriggles closer, and very carefully, very deliberately, pulls John into a hug.

And holds there, like he isn’t ever going to let go. John just melts against him, not wanting him to, never wanting him to. Eventually, he feels Ronon at his back, Teyla at his side, joining in on what has definitely redefined itself from hug to cuddle.

He really, really isn’t complaining.

‘John?’ Rodney says eventually, stubble tickling John’s neck as he speaks.

‘Mmmm?’ John says a little dreamily, feeling like a puddle that’s contained merely by his team’s bodies.

‘I love you too.’ Rodney says it softly, and the thawing of John Sheppard is complete.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone is heading back in as the wind off San Francisco bay gets up, chilling their skin. Rodney still has his arm around Jennifer and is about to leave with her and the rest when he notices John, alone, still looking out across the bay.

‘Give me a minute,’ he says to her, and joins his friend.

‘Hey.’ He says as he leans against the rail, not looking at the view but surveying the Colonel. The man looks lost again, wound tight. His arms cross his chest like a protective band, his face is shuttered.

‘Hey, Rodney,’ John drawls in that practiced, ‘don’t spook the natives voice’ he uses when Bad Things are about to happen. It matches Rodney’s own unease.

‘It’s Atlantis, isn’t it? She doesn’t want to be here.’ Rodney doesn’t have the connection to the city that John does, but there’s this background harmonic that’s always at the edge of his senses and it feels dissonant. If he was going to put a feeling to it, anxious seems to fit.

John just nods and hugs himself.

‘You don’t want to be here either.’ Rodney realises John’s not the only one. This isn’t _home_ anymore – it feels wrong being here. But there’s other stuff mixed in for Rodney too, stuff about the man in front of him that just won’t go away. And he’s not even letting himself think about what John was doing on that hive with that nuke.

Except he is. Hasn’t stopped thinking about it for a second since the hive. Can’t seem to damp down the intense feelings this latest suicide run stirred up. A big ball of love/pride/awe/fond/hero-worship that makes his heart swell mixed in with anger/loss/fear/hate/betrayal because no matter how much it was the right thing to do _John was going to leave him_ and he wants to lash out at him for that, scream at him.

John looks at him, appraising, but says nothing.

At first, Rodney thinks it’s the city’s harmonic coming more into his awareness, a feeling of off-kilter _wrongness_ that starts as a tightness in his chest and expands until he realises he can’t breathe. At all.

It’s not anaphylaxis, he knows a panic attack when he feels one, but it’s never been this bad. He’s been in wraith cocoons, had mechanical humans put their hands in his head, been captured by enough angry natives to fill a football stadium but sure, he’s having the worst panic attack of his life _now_ because he misses a galaxy that shouldn’t feel so much like home and a lover who was never really his.

John grabs him as he crumples to the deck, fighting for breath.

‘Rodney! Shit. Do I need to use the EpiPen?’ Rodney shakes his head vigorously – that’ll just make this worse. John touches on his radio, ‘Sheppard to Keller, medical emergency!’ The man looks gratifyingly terrified, Rodney thinks, as he blacks out.

***

‘Hey buddy,’ John’s face is the first thing he sees when he comes to in the infirmary. He can remember being in and out on the balcony, then the slow pull of a sedative taking him down.

He can also remember how frantic John sounded.

It hits him like the worst punch in the face he ever had. How he’s been lying to himself all this time, trying to reach for some sort of compensation with Jennifer, trying to settle for her. But he _can’t._

Who’s he kidding? John loves him – maybe not the way he wants him to, but even without sex there’s more between him and this man than there ever will be with Jennifer. Come to that, there’s more between him and _Ronon_ than there ever will be with Jennifer. He’s been so hell-bent on having _someone_ he’s missed all the other things he has with his team, all the ways his life could be good outside of being in a couple. But he doesn’t need the validation of someone on his arm to know he’s loved. And he needs to be over John before he gets into another relationship.

Even if that never happens.

As soon as they landed on Earth he could see the trajectory of him and Jennifer – they wouldn’t go back, they’d settle here – probably at the SGC, working under half a kilometre of rock for the best part of the next decade. But worse than that, she’d take him away from John, and he can’t bear that.

He knows he has to finish it.

*** 

In the end, Jennifer is philosophical when he tells her a few days later, after she returns from an impromptu period of shore leave.

‘They’re already talking about taking her back to Pegasus, and I want to stay on Earth, Rodney. It was an adventure, but it’s . . . not me. But you . . . I think you belong there.’

‘Oh. I . . . don’t know what to say,’ he finishes faintly.

‘Nothing to say. Life is trial and error. I shouldn’t have been so determined to make it fit a plan,’ Jennifer says wistfully. ‘Just promise me one thing?’

‘What?’ Rodney asks, uncertain what she’ll say.

‘Tell him how you feel.’ She says bluntly.

Oh, wow.

‘I, er don’t . . .’ Jennifer looks at him sceptically. ‘I mean he won’t . . . what’s the point?’ Rodney says resignedly.

‘You’re too close to have this between you, Rodney. Whatever happens, you need to get past it. And that means telling him the truth.’

‘Oh.’ Rodney knows his voice sounds small and weak. ‘How did you know? Does everyone?’

‘I don’t think so. I pieced it together from different stuff. When you said you were bi, I realised the person you couldn’t get over wasn’t Katie. The Colonel wasn’t a big leap from there. And I like to think that me not being able to really light your fire may have something to do with him, too, though that could just be my ego.’

‘Jennifer, when we . . . I really liked it.’

‘Me too, and I’m not questioning your label, Rodney, I just think right now you’re more gay for John Sheppard than you realise.’

Rodney thinks about him and Jennifer together. On reflection, ‘I liked it’ and ‘it was nice’ is about a million miles away from the volcanic heat he and John had generated together.

So why hadn’t that been enough?

***

John’s lying on his bed in just a pair of cargo shorts when his door chimes, wading through chapter 175 of War and Peace and trying not to think about the proximity of bookshops and how many alternatives there are to these interminably unpronounceable Russians.

‘Come in,’ he says, without getting up. He knows who it’ll be, and that there will be chess, or car racing or computer games in his future. The ache for more is kept in its place. Things are good.

Rodney walks in and just stops, appraising John as if he’s never seen him before – taking a deep breath and letting his eyes linger on John’s bare torso, then down to his equally naked feet.

Damn, that’s confusing, but he feels Rodney’s gaze like a caress, and his skin begins to heat.

‘Rodney?’ John almost wants to tease him, but he’s not quite ready for that. His heart is beating a little fast suddenly.

Rodney shakes himself. ‘God, I’m sorry. I er . . . fuck.’ He rakes his hands through his hair and tries to look at the very dull contents of John’s desk. If John wasn’t so confused, he’d be amused.

‘Oh god look, I may as well just jump straight in, seeing as I’ve given myself away with my . . . ogling, sorry. The thing is, John, this is unfair on my part and I should have talked to you before. You probably know, it’s probably obvious but I, er . . .’

John’s heart may just burst out of his chest. _Spit it out, McKay._

‘Have feelings. Still. In fact, thought we were good together. Was sad that you broke up with me. Wished you hadn’t. Wish we could . . . again. And to conclude, I love you more than just the way a friend loves another friend, and I’m sorry if that’s going to make things awkward but Jennifer says something this big shouldn’t sit in the middle of a friendship unspoken. Oh, we broke up by the way, and no, I didn’t out you, she just could tell how I feel about you so apparently it’s obvious and I guess you already knew and I know there’s nothing to be done if it’s not the same for you but just so you know if you took me back I’d do better, whatever it was I did wrong, I’d get it right cos I’d do anything for you.’ Rodney finally pauses for breath, and John can see panic and shame fill his face. John's too stunned to speak or even move a muscle. Not quite believing his own ears.

Finally, Rodney speaks again: ‘Oh god, I’ve humiliated myself, I think I’d better go.’

***

Rodney spins on his heels and the door swooshes open to let him escape.

And then swooshes closed again before he can get through.

John is across the room in an instant, standing between him and the door and looking really, really angry. Oh god, this is going to be brutal. Rodney is already regretting ever coming here.

‘You know, for a scientist, McKay, you’ve been drawing conclusions on pretty flimsy evidence.’ John drawls, and Rodney can detect a streak of amusement amid the anger.

‘Oh god, please don’t mock me right now, John, I can’t take that.’ He feels stupid and deflated – what did he think was going to happen?

‘I’m not mocking you, Rodney.’ John’s voice softens. ‘It’s just that the really vital bit of evidence you’re missing here is that I didn’t. break up. with you.’

Rodney just stares, unable to parse that sentence.

‘Er . . . so why aren’t we . . .’

‘Damned if I know,’ says John, and steps quite considerably closer to Rodney, and now his eyes are smiling in a most provocative way. John brings a hand up to Rodney’s cheek, thumb tracing along his bottom lip. ‘Been pining for you like you wouldn’t believe.’ His voice cracks as he says it.

Oh, Sheppard’s touch feels so good, but Rodney’s still utterly confused. ‘But why . . .’

‘Are we really gonna _talk_? Now?’

‘Hell, yes we’re going to talk. Not talking is what got us into this mess!’ Rodney’s not sure if he wants to laugh hysterically, cry with relief, or scream and shout just now, so he opts for what he knows best – establishing the facts before acting.

‘You went on a date with Keller.’ John says sulkily.

‘Oh, _Oh._ John, I was worried about outing us, outing you . . . I’d made this stupid comment about Jon Stewart . . .’

‘Jon Stewart, eh? That explains everything,’ John says wryly.

‘Oh god. How did I not talk to you? I'm so sorry.’ Rodney’s kicking himself for not having simply explained his rationale for having a drink with Jennifer.

But John is suddenly examining his incredibly hairy toes and his (sexy, naked) shoulders are sagging. ‘Erm . . .’ but he doesn’t get any further than that, and Rodney is left staring at the top of his dishevelled head and wondering.

‘What, John?’

‘I may have been taking extraordinary measures to avoid hearing what you had to say.’

‘But . . .’ Rodney splutters. He really doesn’t know what to reply to that.

John sighs the way he always does when he knows he has to talk about something and would rather spend quality time in a wraith hive ship. ‘I may have been a little . . . broken . . . from my father's last rejection.’

That doesn’t really answer anything, so Rodney doesn’t say a word, leaving the space in hope that John will fill it.

‘I may not have been able to cope with hearing you reject me.’ John confesses at last, his voice so sad and small Rodney can’t bear it.

‘But I wasn't going to reject you, you moron!’

‘Well I know that now . . .’

‘So you’re telling me, we just wasted a perfectly good year of our lives not having sex with each other because you thought I was breaking up with you so avoided me and I thought you were breaking up with me _because_ you were avoiding me, and it’s all your father’s fault?’

‘Basically.’ John’s still hanging his head, and his neck and shoulders are knotted as all hell. There’s going to be a massage in his future as soon as they’ve talked this out. In fact . . .

Rodney grabs John by the upper arms and marches him to his desk chair, pushing him down. John looks up at him, bewildered, but Rodney just spins him round and puts his fingers to work on all that tension in John’s knotted muscles. John sighs expansively.

‘Okay, talk to me.’ Rodney’s kneading John’s shoulders, trying to get them to go back down from their position hitched up near his pointy ears. ‘Tell me what that bastard did to crush you and hence fuck up our happiness . . . we were happy, weren’t we? I remember being happy.’ John nods at that last bit, but otherwise just squirms into his touch and says nothing. ‘No, wait, I think I can guess. Rich bastard, right? He left you out of the will.’ But John’s shoulders freeze right back up when he says that.

‘Come on Sheppard, talk to me,’ he almost hammers John’s shoulders like he’s knocking back bread dough, but John seems to like it, judging by the soft sighs. Eventually, he speaks.

‘He left me money. Quite a lot of money for me, though not for him. More than I’ll ever give a damn about. I suppose that’s what matters? Only . . .’ he goes silent, and Rodney gives him space, moving his assault to John’s upper vertebrae and silently revelling in the fact that he finally has his hands on John Sheppard again, albeit a very sad and tense John Sheppard.

‘Only . . .’ he prompts eventually.

‘Only he managed to write the will without mentioning me at all.’ John confesses, like he feels ashamed of what he’s saying. ‘He said Dave’s name seventeen times – I counted. He named everyone else – my nieces, the housekeeper, the pool guy, my ex-wife even. Then, at the end, he just said “the contents of account blah blah at the bank of whatever is to be distributed evenly between my heirs.”’ The defeated stance has crept back into John’s posture and Rodney just wants to hug him.

_Oh. I can._

Rodney sits himself down on a cabinet, tugging John’s chair closer and smoothing his hands round John from behind, kissing the back of his head as he does it.

‘Fuck, John. That’s way worse than leaving you out of the will completely. What a complete and utter bastard.’

‘You think so?’ John’s voice sounds so small and broken. Rodney shifts his arms tighter around him, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

‘Yeah. It’s so _calculated._ And gaslighting, too, making it seem like benevolence while actually being cruelty. Seriously, fuck him.’

John has stilled, gone deathly quiet. Suddenly Rodney feels a splash on the arm that’s wrapped around John’s chest. He says nothing, just squeezes a little tighter. And John’s shaking, then, and grabbing hold of Rodney’s arms like he’s never going to let go. Rodney drops kisses across his neck, into his hair.

‘Shh, John, it’s okay. You are so loved. Not just by me. I mean _especially_ by me, but by Teyla and Ronon and your troops and Jeannie and Madison and well, pretty much everyone who knows you. Which means his inability to love you was his fucking problem, not yours.’ John exhales a ragged breath at that, not quite a sob. Rodney holds on, and John’s hands knead into his biceps, holding so tight he might bruise, not that Rodney could care less.

Eventually, he turns John around in the chair, keeping a hold on his shoulder with one hand and stroking away his tears with the other. His hand moves down to stroke along John’s stubbled jaw. John looks beautiful like this, his face softened with emotion, his hazel eyes glowing extra green. Rodney’s breath catches from the feelings welling up inside of him, a mixture of empathy for what John’s been going through this last year and sheer _relief_ that they’re finally reconnecting.

John’s arms snake around his neck, pulling him into a kiss, hungry and needy. There’s a desperation in the way John’s soft lips nip at Rodney’s, in the nuzzling scrape of his 5 o’clock shadow on Rodney’s skin. It tugs at something in Rodney’s chest til he feels tears at the corners of his own eyes.

_God, I’ve waited so long for you._

They kiss forever. He’s forgotten how much he loves just kissing John. How agile the man is with his lips and tongue, how passionate, too, the very opposite of the laid-back stoic everyone sees. Rodney puts all his feelings into licking and nipping and plundering John’s mouth and feels all his emotions desperately returned.

How did he miss this? How John feels about him? Now he knows, he can see John telling him in a hundred ways in the last year and him simply not listening. But now, it’s like when a new formula clicks in his head – the answer is sure and certain – John Sheppard _loves_ him, and his heart is doing somersaults at the realisation. He knows John would never say it in a million years, but Rodney knows it all the same.

‘Remember what you said, that night on the pier?’ Rodney says when they finally come up for air, ‘You said “you're stuck with me, Rodney. Just accept it,” and I was too damn stupid to see what you were telling me. Well, back at you. You’re stuck with me, John. Just accept it.’

John looks wrecked. His kiss-swollen lips ( _such_ a good look on him) move as if he wants to say something, but he just widens his eyes, looking stunned. Like he really can’t believe this is happening – like he thinks _he’s_ the lucky one. That’s going to take quite some getting used to.

Eventually, John just gives his head a little shake, his shoulders half shrug as if he’s giving up finding the words for what he wants to say. But Rodney doesn’t need his words right now – he _knows._

John pulls Rodney in for another kiss, tugging him forward until he’s straddling John’s lap, pushing his hands up inside Rodney’s shirt like he’s desperate for as much contact as possible. They’re not quite grinding on each other but they’re creeping ever closer. There’s a heat coming off John that’s pulling Rodney in like a homing beacon. The atmosphere in the room has shifted; a charge is building up between them. Five minutes ago all Rodney knew was that John loves him, now it’s pretty clear that John _wants_ him pretty desperately too. And the feeling is more than mutual. The scent of their arousal starts to fill the air between them.

‘Can we be naked now?’ John wheedles, and Rodney decides yes, that’s a solid plan.

‘Naked and horizontal okay for you?’ he says with a wry smile.

‘Abso-fucking-lutely.’ John peels him out of his shirt, kissing down his torso, teasing his nipples with fingers then teeth until Rodney’s moaning from it. And then they’re back to kissing, only this time it’s hot and desperate and John’s damn near devouring Rodney and Rodney’s tongue is doing battle with John’s in the best possible way. They’re not going to make it to bed at this rate, or out of the rest of their clothes, because they’re welded to each other, and now they really are grinding, hot and hard, The chair is creaking somewhat alarmingly, and Rodney’s pants are feeling way too tight all of a sudden.

‘Stop!’ Rodney pulls away suddenly, and John looks worried.

‘No, god, don’t worry, I just want to get you out of these shorts before I make you come in them.’ He stands up, makes John stand too, and reaches for John’s fly, quickly divesting him of the cargo shorts and his boxer briefs.

He’s seen so many wonders in the Pegasus Galaxy, but John Sheppard naked is still, as far as Rodney’s concerned, the most beautiful sight in the known universe, and he lets himself look, holding John’s arms to the side, even though he knows John is stupidly shy about his gorgeous body. John ducks his head.

‘You’re stunning. I don’t know why you’re so shy.’

‘Let’s not break the mood by revisiting my fucked up childhood, eh?’ John leans forward and snags Rodney’s lips in an urgent kiss, and then he’s got his hands on Rodney’s fly and Rodney is having to do advanced calculus in his head to stop himself from coming just from the brush of John’s hand against his erection.

God, he’s forgotten how hot they are together.

***

John is still trying to right himself after a riptide of emotions. The elation of having Rodney back (he never really left!) is dizzying, the feeling of those strong hands on him; comforting, sexy, loving, everything.

 _God._ He’s vibrating with want, need, excitement, lust, love. Doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

He’s got Rodney out of his clothes, noting how he’s muscled up even more since last year, how his body has lost some of its softness. Not that he ever minded that softness, but Rodney’s strength is comforting right now, and hot as hell.

‘So fucking sexy, McKay.’ He handles Rodney over to the bed, spreading him out on it and just looking, wanting to slow things down. He notices Rodney hasn’t responded to his comment. Somewhere along the way this man learned to filter out certain compliments.

‘I mean it, Rodney. You’re seriously hot, and you get hotter by the year, which is quite an accomplishment at our age.’

Rodney just looks bewildered. ‘I don’t get it. How does someone like _you_ see something in someone like _me_?’

John sighs. He just doesn’t get it. He cups Rodney’s face with one hand.

‘Your jaw is strong where mines’ weak. Your eyes are exquisite blue where mine are the colour of dirty water . . .’ His hand trails down Rodney’s chest, eliciting a little squirm from the other man. ‘Your body hair is a manly scattering where mine’s a carpet, your shoulders are broad where mine are narrow . . .’ He sweeps his caress over Rodney’s muscles and then runs his fingers down the man’s side, into the hollow of his back and down to the perfect curve of his backside nestling against the sheets. ‘Your ass is full and round where mine is non-existent . . .’ He brings the hand round, sweeping through Rodney’s pubic hair and oh-so-gently tracing the length of his cock. Rodney gasps and rises off the bed as if John was jerking him. That response is very gratifying. ‘And your dick’s bigger than mine,’ he smirks.

Rodney looks from one erection to the other and reaches for John’s as if to size him up. John shivers from his touch, barely in control.

‘I’m a tad thicker, but you’re longer. I’d call that a draw.’ Rodney declares finally.

John rolls his eyes. ‘But will you just admit to yourself that I find you hot as hell, McKay?’ He’s fondly exasperated.

Rodney’s face has a familiar look, usually seen when he’s got a tablet connected up to some new bit of alien tech and is trying to figure out what’s going on. Then this pleased look creeps cross his face. ‘Oh. You really mean that, don’t you?’ he says, brightening. ‘But for the record, your self-descriptions suck, and I refute all of them, but particularly the dirty water comparison. Your eyes are incredible.’

John can feel his cheeks and ears heating up. Maybe Rodney’s not the only one who’s lousy at taking a compliment.

He crawls up the bed, hovering over Rodney’s body, trying to decide just what he wants to do with him. Rodney smells of chocolate and arousal and _home._ John isn’t just overwhelmingly horny, his heart is so full it might burst. It suddenly strikes him what Rodney meant when he said, “you’re stuck with me”, what John means just as much in return.

They have their _whole lives_ to do this and there’s really no rush at all. He grins.

‘What?’ Rodney asks, looking suspicious.

‘Oh, just thinking about what I can do with you now I have forever,’ John drops down against Rodney, kissing him long and slow, passionate and filthy. Rodney’s hands work their way up John’s back and into his hair, holding onto him with the same urgency John suddenly feels. Their cocks align and slide together and the contact is bliss but it’s not enough. John pulls back and looks at Rodney. He’s never said what he’s about to say to anyone, but he wants it so much he can’t contain it.

‘Need you inside me.’

Rodney’s eyes darken with lust and . . . something else, more emotional and needy.

‘God, yes, anything, John.’

John grabs the lube and condoms out of the drawer (they’ve been waiting for this moment for a year, but they’re still in date – he checks). He shyly passes them to Rodney, cocking his head in inquiry.

‘You haven’t done this before?’

John shakes his head. ‘Lots of blowjobs and handjobs. Never this. It’s kind of – more against the rules.’

Rodney rolls his eyes, but refrains from his usual diatribe about US military policy. Instead, he says ‘thank you, I feel . . . honoured.’ He looks kind of emotional and it’s . . . John tries to quash the mushy words that pop into his brain but he’s failing miserably.

Rodney arranges him on the bed. They’re side by side, still kissing hot and heavy. Rodney’s taking his time, exploring every inch of John’s skin with his hands, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch. John can’t get over how Rodney’s presence sensitises his every nerve like he’s iron filings to Rodney’s magnet.

Rodney’s hand cups his ass and he shivers, wantonly pulling his knee up to his chest and shifting round to give Rodney better access. Rodney’s eyes widen at that, and he kisses John long and deep as his hand caresses into his crack, teasing his hole. John starts to feel shy, but Rodney’s touch is melting him and all he can do is give himself over to it.

‘I need two hands,’ Rodney says eventually, kneeling up and grabbing the lube. John feels vulnerable, with Rodney looking down on him, but it’s more a thrill than a discomfort – if he can’t trust Rodney by now, there really is no hope for him. And Rodney is being so careful, so loving, so _gentle_ it takes John’s breath away. He wonders why he isn’t surprised, but he’s always known the man is tender at his core.

The first stroke of Rodney’s finger inside him makes him moan unashamedly. He wants more, but Rodney is patient, dipping in shallow, then deeper, then finding his prostate and oh, god, John squirms with pleasure at the touch. He just wants to let Rodney in everywhere and that’s not something he ever thought he’d be feeling, having tried so hard for so long to keep everyone out.

The second finger has him shivering with need. He wants more but he patiently waits for whatever Rodney will give. Rodney’s hands caress his flanks, gentling him as he adds a third finger. He lays back down beside John, licking his way into John’s mouth as a fourth finger breaches his hole and John gasps against Rodney’s lips, so desperate he lunges his tongue into Rodney’s mouth, pulls at Rodney’s hair, his hips bucking back into Rodney’s strong, competent fingers.

‘Please,’ he breathes at last.

‘Yes,’ says Rodney, and the naked desire lights up his face. ‘Okay, so it might be easier if I’m behind you, but then I can’t kiss you and I’m torn . . .’

But John knows what he wants although he may not have the words. He kisses Rodney fiercely, sucking on his tongue, nipping at his lower lip. Then he grabs a pillow and pushes it under his belly, turning on his front and spreading his legs.

‘It’s about me trusting you.’ He says simply.

‘Oh.’ Rodney says, his voice awed. He gets it.

One day, John thinks, he’ll let this man tie him up, blindfold him, _anything_. Right now, though Rodney is kissing down his back, caressing his sides with stroking, confident hands that give him all the right kinds of shivers. When he feels pressure at his hole he thinks _at last_ and Rodney is so slow and careful that there’s no pain at all, just perfect pressure inside him. Rodney sinks in, slowly and inexorably until he’s right up tight against John’s ass, and John’s feeling full in a way he’s never known. He can feel the curly hair, the brush of his balls, and then the brush of lips again on his shoulder.

‘You feel so good, Rodney. God, so good.’ He squirms back against his lover, wanting more. Rodney sighs and presses the length of his body close into John’s back.

Part of John wants to be fucked hard into the mattress, part of him wants Rodney just to stay right there forever. But more than either of those things he wants to just give himself over to Rodney and let him do whatever the hell he wants. He’s _never_ felt anything remotely resembling this in his life.

‘Are you ready for me to move, John?’ Rodney asks, and his voice is full of wonder.

‘God, yes,’ John breathes and he can’t contain the thrill he feels as Rodney pulls out and sinks back in, powerful and deliberate and achingly slow. He does this again and again, til John’s a squirming puddle beneath him.

‘So beautiful, John. God, you’re so perfect.’ He thrusts hard as he says this, hitting John’s prostate, and John cries out from the intensity of it.

John can tell Rodney’s struggling to keep control and he just loves to feel the conflict bubbling beneath the man’s skin. He can feel the charge building between them, but Rodney’s some kind of sex god, keeping them both just this side of losing it for what seems like fucking _forever._

Rodney slides deep inside John and rests there, letting his hands once again stroke up John’s sides. But this time he slides his hands to John’s, twining their fingers together and then pushing John’s arms above his head. Fuck, that’s intense. It makes John feel so safe to be completely under Rodney’s control. Rodney grips John’s hands hard and pushes against them to give himself traction to thrust again. He can’t pull out far in this position, his whole body is pressed up against John’s back and his thrusts are short but powerful jabs that get John’s prostate every damn time.

John’s in heaven, incoherent with pleasure, moaning when he’s never been a moaner, making noise where he’s always been the silent type. Rodney’s thrusts are inexorable and building in frequency. The kisses along his shoulder and neck are getting bitey and he loves it. He doesn’t know if he can come like this but right now what he wants way more than his own orgasm is for Rodney to come inside of him. He can tell Rodney is losing his control and he really, really likes that. He tries a little experimental contraction of his ass muscles and Rodney groans.

‘Oh god, if you do that again I will lose it!’

John does it again, feeling smug, and that’s it – Rodney picks up speed, gripping his hands tight enough to hurt (and oh, he likes that – filed away for later). Rodney is thrusting hard into him and it feels fucking glorious. John’s so close to his own orgasm he can taste it, but he focusses on Rodney, on clenching those muscles and thrusting back into him as much as he can, making him lose all that control and composure until he groans loudly, bucking and trembling in an orgasm that shakes through both of them and yeah, that’s just what it takes to send John’s untouched cock into a mindblowing climax of his own, the aftershocks taking a full minute to get through, and Rodney’s clinging onto his back like he doesn’t ever want to let go, shifting his weight sideways and relaxing his grip on John’s hands to make sure John isn’t uncomfortable.

John is definitely not uncomfortable. ‘Mmmmm . . . can we just stay like this forever?’ He asks.

‘Sure,’ says Rodney, ‘I don’t see a problem with that.

‘Good.’ John sighs. He’s feeling kinda drowsy, kinda spent, but in only good ways. ‘Rodney?’ he asks, just before he lets himself fall over the edge of sleep.

‘Yes, John?’

‘Love you.’

Rodney sharply inhales at this, even though it’s hardly news.

‘Love you too, John. Always.’

**Author's Note:**

> John deals with painkiller addiction in this fic and goes through withdrawal


End file.
